Well day three of home coming and it's both wonderful and very strange. Am so, so, so happy and then suddenly will feel a well of tears that it's all over. Is it disbelief? Is this real? In reality am I still in 'son posted overseas on active service' mode and this is all a dream?
The answer of course is no, this is not imagination. My son really is, thank the Lord, back in the United Kingdom and not via Selly Oak or, God bless them, Wootton Bassett.
Reflecting on the impact of the tour the overriding effect has been one of exhaustion. Exhaustion at the shear grinding relentlessness of the constant dread. Exhaustion at the never-ending mental exploration of avenues of horror which may lie around the corner. Exhaustion at the lack of sleep because the brain pings into life with a subversive chant of foreboding in the dark of the night, only to be repeated remorselessly. And exhaustion derived from a perpetual state of not knowing 'is my son still alive at this moment in time'.
Well thank God he was and we were blessed and he was lucky.
I've just returned home from yet another physio session and experienced acupuncture for the first time and hopefully it will work. H gone up to London with his father to the post-tour briefing for 3 Rifles family members. R away at uni preparing for exams. And with the grace of heaven C should be home with us tomorrow.
Fellow soldier's Mum's son now safely back in the UK too.
So many thanks Lord.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
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